


dive headfirst, or not at all

by textbook



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 2008 Summer Olympics, Alternate Universe, Diving, EXO-M OT6, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Kim Jongbros are actual bros, M/M, Pining, bandfic, layhan are synchronised diving partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbook/pseuds/textbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Elation and devastation: someone achieves their dream and someone else loses it, all in the same instance. Welcome to the Olympic Games.” – London 2012, Diving Men’s 3m Finals</p><p>Sitting on the ten-metre platform looking down into the waters below always fills Jongdae with so much melancholy. The 10m was never his niche – it had always been Zitao’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dive headfirst, or not at all

Sitting on the ten-metre platform looking down into the waters below always fills Jongdae with so much melancholy. The 10m was never his niche – it had always been Zitao’s. Jongdae had found his calling in the 3m springboard, mastering the short somersaults came with its challenge list, rather than the flamboyant artistry that the 10m demanded.

“Jongdae hyung!” The familiar booming voice of his younger brother pulled him out of his thoughts. He shuffled backwards, pressing himself against the railing so Jongin wouldn’t be able to see him, but

“Hyung, I know you’re up there. You’d better come down before I get up there and push you down myself.”

Jongdae groans and rolls over to peek at Jongin. “Haven’t you ever heard of something called _alone time_ , Jongin?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have it here, where anyone can just walk in and see you.” Jongin’s smirking, and Jongdae flings his towel for his brother’s face, but it’s easily sidestepped. “Come on, grouchy, staying up there won’t make him magically appear, you know.”

“Shut up,” Jongdae grumbles. He knows he’s lost, so he gets up and heads down the stairs. Jongin’s at the bottom, holding Jongdae’s bag and towel with a cheeky grin plastered on his hideous face. Jongdae is very tempted to throw something at him, but the only thing he’s holding is his goggles, and throwing that would probably break Jongin’s nose, which would piss their mother off, so he settles for a punch to Jongin’s stomach instead.

“I swear, you’re the world’s worst older brother,” Jongin gasps.

“I love you too,” Jongdae coos. “Also, Jongdeok’s a lot worse, so I’m probably second.”

***

Jongdae’s parents had always been supportive of anything their sons had wanted to pursue. Jongdeok was the first to discover his talent and love for soccer in elementary school, and their parents had supported him as he tried out for the school team, then regionals, and finally, the junior national team. Following him was Jongdae, who had wanted to master a sport as well, but didn’t exactly have the coordination to be a soccer player. But one tumble in the gym in first grade changed that, and soon, his gym teacher was recommending him for diving.

“He’s a natural when it comes to somersaults, and gymnastics doesn’t really give him much opportunity to show that off, so perhaps he should give diving a try?”

Jongdae’s dad squeezed his shoulders. “Whatcha think about that, kid?”

It took Jongdae some ten seconds to answer. He thought about the pool and how he loved splashing around in it, and jumping into it as a sport when his parents had initially told him not to because it was dangerous only added novelty to it.

“Yeah!” He chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

Jongdae made the junior national team at the tender age of eleven years old, and a year later, his coach decided to send him to China to train with the Chinese team. His parents were worried at first. Moving from their small seaside town of Siheung to Seoul for Jongdeok’s training had been a big thing for the boys, but moving to a whole different country was a different matter. Jongdeok was still signed onto the national youth soccer team, and Jongin was having the time of his life in school, so their mother made the difficult decision to quit her job and move with Jongdae to Qingdao, China.

“Mummy, I’m scared,” Jongdae said very softly while they walked to their gate at the airport. 

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’m scared too, Jongdae-yah. But this is going to be the start of a very big adventure.”

Jongdae’s eyes lit up at the prospect of an adventure. “Will we get to do quests and stuff? And collect prizes?”

His mother laughed and pulled him into a hug. “Yes, of course we will. We’ll get to do everything you want.”

 

Qingdao was a scary place to be. Neither Jongdae not his mother spoke much Mandarin, nor were they used to Chinese customs. Luckily for them, they lived near the training centre, in the same building as many other families whose children were on the same training scheme.

There was another Korean boy, Minseok, a 5m platform kid, who was two years older than Jongdae was and more than happy to take Jongdae under his wing. His mother was as eager to help them settle – showing them around the city and telling them where to get the best red pepper paste for cheap. Their mothers got along well, the natural pull of solidarity binding them together.

In order to make sure that Jongdae would not be left behind by the South Korean education system, his mother meticulously homeschooled him, at times holding lessons with Minseok and his mother. They fell into an easy routine of shuffling between daily diving training, homeschool and Mandarin classes thrice a week that became almost comfortable. Jongdae was quick to make friends in training, not just due to his easygoing personality, but also because of Minseok, who had eagerly introduced him to everyone.

There was Yixing, who was from Changsha, and whose thick accent Jongdae had a lot of trouble deciphering for a long time, and his sync partner Lu Han, who seemed almost possessive of Minseok, snarling at Jongdae the first time Minseok had introduced them. Despite being a pair of airheads, Yixing and Lu Han were both two-time junior national champions in the 10m sync event. There was also Wu Fan, the kid of one of their coaches who loved to follow his mother to the training centre after school to watch them, and finally, Zitao, a prodigy in the 10m event and the youngest of them all.

"You should try the platform," Zitao had told him after Jongdae had made his first few dives to show their coach where he stood. Minseok translated for him, sliding between them with a big grin on his face.

Jongdae pouted. "I can't do platform," he said sadly. "My coach said I don't have the moves."

"But have you tried?" Zitao asked, his eyes glinting. Jongdae felt a little challenged, but mostly intimidated, by Zitao. But he's a whole year older than Zitao is, so he shouldn't let a younger kid boss him around.

"I'll try now!" He piped up, drawing himself to his full height and heading to the stairs.

"Maybe we should wait for Coach," Minseok said, but Jongdae barely heard him. He said something in Mandarin to Zitao, which Zitao replied to, but Jongdae paid them no mind.

"I'll do a basic somersault!" Jongdae called out as he stepped to the edge. The height is a little scary – the water's all the way down _there_ – but Jongdae's not afraid of heights. He can do this.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, once, twice, then jumped. 

It's a long way down. His heart hammered hard against his ribs as he felt himself fall. When he finally entered the water, he's so unprepared for the force of the impact that he panicked and gasped.

He's rewarded with a noseful of water and limbs that refused to listen. His panic grew, and so did the extent of his flailing. He doesn't realise he's pulled out until someone hit his back, hard, and he coughed out the water that was stuck in his throat.

Minseok's shouting in Mandarin, and Zitao's mumbling back. Jongdae doesn't bother replying, choosing instead to close his eyes and leaning against whoever's in front of him.

"Zitao says he's sorry," Minseok told him. Jongdae made a little noise of acknowledgement, then coughed again.

 

Needless to say, it's tense between Zitao and Jongdae after that. Neither Minseok nor Jongdae rattle the events to their coach or their parents. Jongdae’s just eager to let everything slide. It's not all Zitao's fault he almost drowned – it's his own too.

However, a week after the incident, Zitao aproached Jongdae in the lockers, and pushed a plastic container into his hands.

"For you," he said, his head hung low. Jongdae understood, because he's been working hard in his Mandarin lessons, eager to be able to understand the other boys without always relying on Minseok.

"Thank you," Jongdae replied, his voice soft because he was still apprehensive in speaking in Mandarin. It paid off though, since Zitao perked up at that, his lips stretching into a grin.

Jongdae grinned back, and Zitao nodded and jogged out of the room.

 

Nestled inside the plastic container are what seemed to be strips of jerky.

"That's _bak kwa_ ," Jongdae’s mother told him. "It's really delicious."

She only managed to grab a small piece; Jongdae ate the rest. She was right. It was absolutely delicious.

 

"Bak kwa," Jongdae said in Mandarin to Zitao in lieu of a greeting when they met in the lockers. "Really delicious."

Zitao turned to him, his grin big and bright. "You liked it?"

"Mmm!" Jongdae nodded. "Very, very delicious."

Zitao laughed. "I'm very, very glad."

 

Jongdae’s Mandarin improved at a rapid rate, all thanks to the other boys. Minseok refused to speak to him in anything but Mandarin, staying stoically silent when Jongdae had told him something or other in Korean.

“You’re getting really good at this,” Minseok praised in Korean, genuinely amazed when Jongdae replied, almost fluently in Mandarin, to something Lu Han had said.

Lu Han patted him on the head, because he thought that being thir _teen_ gave him the right to baby Jongdae and Zitao. “Good job, Zhongda.”

Jongdae beamed.

***

Jongdae’s doing warm-up laps in the pool while waiting for his coach. He’s lost count of how many he’s done, but does another anyway just because it helps him think. It’s been a rough year since he’s back in Seoul and it shows in his competitive records. The winning streak he had achieved while training in Qingdao fizzled into nothing when he returned.

He misses his friends.

A splash in front of him forces Jongdae to stop swimming, sputtering and threading water. Minseok’s jumped in front of him _again_.

“Hyung!” Jongdae pants. “Stop doing that.”

“You’re moping,” Minseok points out. “Again.”

Jongdae lets out a small pout, just because he’s with Minseok and he knows he’ll be indulged. “I miss everyone.”

Minseok tugs him close to ruffle his hair, just the way Lu Han would back in Qingdao. “You have me, you little brat,” he points out, giving Jongdae a smile before shoving his head under water.

 

“Aren’t you… not supposed to be here?” He asks Minseok a while later, once they’re out of the pool. “Don’t Olympics-bound divers have a special place to train?”

“Yeah.” Minseok makes a face. “They sent me to Germany to some kind of intense core training, then the US last week for more training.” He lets out a pout. “I just want to sleep one whole day, but they never let me.”

Jongdae doesn’t know what to say to that. Ever since his epic flop at the junior nationals last year, he’d been pulled out of the team and forced to go back to his basics – core training, dry training, boring stuff. He hardly ever sees Minseok or the other members of the junior team anymore, since he’s stuck in the gym the whole day, his only reprise being laps in the pool.

“At least you get to see other people. Lu Han ge? Zitao?” He asks.

The smile that Minseok makes at the mention of Lu Han’s name is what Jongdae’s dubbed as _the Lu Han smile_. As much as Lu Han’s been making heart eyes at Minseok since six years ago when he’d just met them in Qingdao, Minseok’s also had a soft spot for Lu Han, even though he’d never admit it.

“I met Lu Han and Yixing in Germany,” Minseok’s says, still smiling. “They’re gonna compete in the Olympics this year too.”

“Did they mention anything about Zitao?” Jongdae’s hopeful, even if he’s not going to be competing, he’d probably still be able to go, if their coach will let him.

Minseok’s face falls. “Sorry kid, but they haven’t seen or heard from Zitao either. They miss him too.”

Well, then.

***

Zitao’s form as he performed his routine was always beautiful. Despite being only eleven, his body’s all firm, sculptured lines of muscle, twisted and angled to perfection, and Jongdae felt like he could watch him forever.

“His entry is so clean,” Minseok whispered next to him, just as Zitao entered the water with barely a splash. Even their coach, whose standards were so high they could reach the moon, let out a happy noise of approval, and Yixing and Lu Han, the annoying prodigy duo, burst into spontaneous, synchronised clapping.

“How was I?” Zitao asked, bounding over to them the second he gets out of the water. He’s dripping wet, not bothering with a towel, but Jongdae doesn’t mind, even when Zitao slid between them to bother their coach for praise.

“Your ankles weren’t aligned in your second twist.” There was a pause. “But that was a good dive. Keep it up, Zitao.” He patted Zitao on the shoulder, and Zitao _shone_.

Even if the praise wasn’t for him, Jongdae was still really, really happy.

 

Jongdae’s lying on the trampoline in the gym, staring up at the ceiling way above him and wondering how his brothers are doing with their dad in Seoul. It’s been a little more than a year since he’s moved to Qingdao with his mum, and already Jongdae’s starting to forget little things about Jongin and Jongdeok, like the colour of Jongin’s favourite hoodie and if Jongdeok hated carrots or radishes. He hasn’t seen them in months, since they went back to Seoul for seollal, and he missed them badly.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice Zitao crawling on the trampoline to get next to him, and jumped in his skin when Zitao’s face appeared above him.

“Zitao!” He cried out, scrambling up to sit. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone’s left,” Zitao said. “I was about to leave, but I saw that the gym light was still on.” He tilted his head, as though trying to read Jongdae’s brain. “What’s up?”

Jongdae rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair. “Nothing,” he began, then started to pout. “I just really miss my brothers.”

“You have brothers?” Zitao asked, curious. “How many?”

“Two,” Jongdae answered, smiling at the thought of the three of them together. “Jongdeok hyung is fourteen, like Lu Han ge and Minseok ge. Jongin is ten, one year younger than you.”

“And you’re right in the middle,” Zitao pointed out.

“Yeah, I am,” Jongdae said, resting his head on his knees. “Jongdeok hyung plays soccer for the junior national team. Jongin does ballet and he’s really, really good at it.”

Zitao hummed in approval. “Your parents must be very proud of all of you.” He mimicked Jongdae’s pose, resting his head on knees next to Jongdae. “I’m an only child, and sometimes I wish I had an older brother.”

“Doesn’t Lu Han baby you enough?” Jongdae asked, grinning. He knew how Zitao had a love-hate relationship with Lu Han and his rather pesky doting habits – he had the same feelings too.

Zitao stuck out his tongue. “I hate the way he messes up my hair,” he said.

Jongdae threw his head back and laughed. “It’s annoying,” he agreed. “I hate it too.”

***

Jongdae’s is on the springboard, waiting to jump, his body moving up and down with the momentum of his rocking of the board. His mind is elsewhere, drifting between the walls of the tiny, cramped training centre in Qingdao. When he jumps, his heart isn’t in it, and his dive ends up being an utter disappointment.

His coach is shaking his head when Jongdae gets out of the pool. “I don’t know what happened to you, but that,” he points at the springboard. “Was not one of your dives. I don’t have to say this to you, Jongdae, because you know for sure that that will not let you reclaim your spot on the team.”

Jongdae hangs his head and stares at growing puddle around his feet.

 

 **king minseok:** dude you can't believe who i just saw on the olympics lineup  
 **funkyjd ☆:** zitao?????????  
 **king minseok:** yes!  
 **funkyjd ☆:** 10m platform??????  
 **king of 10m:** yeah i'm up against him next week in qualifiers  
 **king minseok:** i wanna try to find him here in dorms  
 **king minseok:** but even lu and xing don't know where he is  
 **king minseok:** he's worrying me a lot

Jongdae’s worried too – he’s been worried since some eight months ago, when Zitao stopped replying to his emails and mentions on weibo and renren. Lu Han had told him then that Zitao had suddenly moved to Hong Kong, apparently to train with another centre for the Olympics. He hadn’t even fought with their coach, simply upped and left without as much as a last-minute hug and a _I’ll see you guys around_. It wasn’t like him at all, to cut himself away like that.

 **funkyjd ☆:** please try to talk to him!!!!!!!  
 **funkyjd ☆:** and ask him what’s up TT___TT  
 **funkyjd ☆:** i miss him .___.  
 **king minseok:** i know you do  
 **king minseok:** we all do  
 **king minseok:** but i know you miss him the most

 

When the diving events start Jongdae sets up his laptop in a corner of the gym that’s clearly visible while he keeps up with his dry training, a livestream of the Beijing Olympics perpetually on the screen. He stops the second either one of his friends are announced, bounding over to the corner in order to be able to focus all of his attention on the screen.

Lu Han and Yixing are up first, their synchronised diving preliminaries coming well before the rest. It’s not the first time Jongdae’s seen Lu Han or Yixing dive from a screen – they’ve been in world junior and FINA world championships far too many times to count. But this is, of course, the _Olympics_ , and Jongdae can’t help but let out a little squeal when he sees them emerge.

 _China’s favourite to bring home a medal for the synchronised 10m platform event – Lu Han and Zhang Yixing,_ the first commentator introduces. _Don’t be fooled by how young they look – this pair took home the gold for last season’s FINA World Series, which makes them one of the strongest contenders for a medal._ The camera zooms in on Lu Han then, but he pays it no mind, swiftly turning away to take a drink from his bottle. _The crowd’s cheering wildly – eighteen-year-old Lu Han is a Beijing native and here on home ground._

 _Not to mention handsome, too,_ the second commentator adds. _It says here they were both voted_ China’s Heartbreakers of the Year _just last year, and boy does it show in their popularity._

Jongdae frowns. Sports commentary is sure taking a dive from bad to worse. On the screen, Lu Han appears to look increasingly more uncomfortable. He was never good with the cameras, and yet, didn’t have it in him to simply let them bounce off his back the way Yixing could. Yixing avoided the cameras’ gazes so well that the bulk of their attention was almost always focused on Lu Han, while Yixing appeared near the edges of the frame, staring blankly into space.

Desperate to shift the camera’s attention away from him, Lu Han pulls Yixing closer on the pretext of holding a conversation, and it works like a charm. The camera shifts away, moving towards the Russian team instead, and Jongdae heaves a sigh of relief for them.

It’s only the preliminaries, which means that Jongdae has to sit in front of his laptop for quite a bit, watching a little detachedly as others somersault or twist their way into the water. It’s almost ten minutes later when Lu Han and Yixing make their first dive, the camera zooming in close to them.

As usual, Yixing counts, and they jump off, spinning through the air not as two separate people who have practiced for far too long they have made it program-perfect, but as though they are part of each other, each and every angle of their hands, knees and feet melding into one. That’s the beauty of Lu Han and Yixing’s dives – they have so much trust in one another that they’re able create an illusion that they’re one person, especially from the side, making hard to tell where Lu Han ends and Yixing begins.

Their entry into the water is perfect, the splash barely audible and visible. The commentators’ praise can barely be heard above the deafening cheers from the audience, as well as from Jongdae himself. His voice bounces off the walls of the empty gym, and he knows that it’ll call someone soon, but he doesn’t mind – his friends had just gotten the highest score among all others, and it’s only the qualifiers.

It’s going to be a great games.

***

It was going to be Jongdae’s first world junior championships, and he’s very, very nervous. He’s trained three years in Qingdao and won the gold in the nationals for this, and he can’t keep still, shaking his leg and gulping water from his bottle. Wu Fan grabbed it when he noticed Jongdae reaching for it for the third time in five minutes, and hid it behind him.

“Ah, ge, I was thirsty!”

“No you’re not,” Wu Fan narrowed his eyes at him. “Your mouth’s just itchy. Now sit still.”

“You’re not even my coach,” Jongdae grumbled under his breath, but listened anyway. He slumped in his seat, scowling at everyone, then tried to look for his family in the stands. It’s not hard to spot Jongdeok, his hair dyed blonde since he’s going through some kind of rebellious phase. Jongdae waved when he thought he’d caught his brother’s eye, but it’s not returned.

“I’m gonna lose,” he told Wu Fan. He’s rewarded with a slap on the head with a towel.

“You’re an idiot,” Wu Fan replied. “But not a loser. My mum doesn’t train losers.”

Jongdae knew that was Wu Fan’s roundabout way of reassuring him, and he took it, grinning up at the older boy. Wu Fan scrutinised him for a bit, then reached down and patted his cheek.

“Seriously, kid,” he reached up and tugged on Jongdae’s ear. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.”

 

Jongdae reached the finals. They’d been aiming for him to finish top fifteen, but an almost-perfect reverse 3 somersaults shot him up to the finals, and he finished with the 8th world junior champion title in the 3m springboard.

It’s of course, nothing compared to his friends – Lu Han and Yixing sailed to an easy gold in the 10m sync, having already won the bronze two years ago. Minseok re-claimed his gold in the 5m, though he’d almost missed it with a less-than-ideal entry on one of his hardest dives in the finals, but saved it with an almost-perfect easy last dive.

Zitao was the most phenomenal of them all, performing amazing dives for someone at their first world championships event and surprising everyone by sliding easily into the finals and into the top three. He finished with a silver and a standing ovation for his last dive – his entry had been _flawless_ , his body lined up and straight, slicing through the water without disturbing it the slightest bit.

Jongdae couldn’t help it, the second Zitao had gotten out of the pool he ran to the front of the stand to give Zitao a hug. He’d gotten his t-shirt wet, but it was definitely worth having Zitao patting him hard on the back squealing _did you see that? I was perfect!_

 

Their coach rewarded them all by allowing them to eat anything they wanted at the hotel’s buffet dinner, diets be damned just for one evening. Jongdae ate as much as he could, sampling all sorts of new food in the spread – thick curries filled with saturated fat that he wouldn’t usually be allowed to even touch, and fried flat bread labelled _roti canai_ that screamed cholesterol but went with everything.

“You should try this!” Zitao dropped a spoonful of what appeared to be long beans and tofu fried in some kind of chili paste onto his plate. “It’s really, really good.”

“What’s this?” Without even waiting for a reply, Jongdae scooped it up and put it into his mouth, chewing and savouring the spicy, savoury taste. “It’s delicious!”

“I don’t know,” Zitao shrugged. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

Next to him, his mother let out a little noise of disapproval. “Stop talking and eat faster, Zitao,” she chided.

Zitao grumbled under his breath and shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth. Quickly polishing off his plate, Jongdae linked his arm in Zitao’s and dragged him back to the buffet line.

“Your mum giving you a bad time?” He asked once they were out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Zitao said, eyebrows furrowed together as he stared at a casserole of a thick curry labelled _rendang_. “She thinks I could’ve won the gold.”

“But silver’s great too!” Jongdae said.

“But it’s not gold,” Zitao mumbled. “She said that at this rate, I’d always be below someone.”

Jongdae put down his plate to wrap an arm around Zitao’s shoulders. “Hey, you’re only thirteen. You have tons of time to climb above people. So relax, eat, don’t listen to your mum too much, okay?”

Zitao flashed him a smile. It’s a little tentative, unsure, but it’s still a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Thanks, Zhongda.”

***

_Next up is China’s Huang Zitao, the current world junior champion in the 10m and bronze medalist in last year’s FINA World Series,_ came the commentary as Zitao walked into the natatorium. Jongdae couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. He looked amazing, a little taller since Jongdae’s last seen him a little over a year ago, and very tanned and built, all smooth lines of toned muscle sculptured around a tall, lanky frame.

_This is his first Olympics – he’s only fifteen, but there are a lot of hopes placed on him after his win last year._

_That’s right. This kid’s got a lot of talent – he started competitive diving at the age of ten and won his first national junior title at twelve. He trained in his hometown, Qingdao, till last year, when he moved to Hong Kong._

Zitao turns to the camera, and Jongdae finds himself stunned, never realising how attracted he was to Zitao until now. Zitao gives the camera a small smile, then ducks his head to look for something or other in his bag.

Jongdae zones out after that, the commentator’s voices fading into nothing at the back of his head.

 

Neither Minseok nor Zitao are favourites for the medal – it’s their first Olympics after all – but Jongdae can see that that doesn’t give them an excuse to slack off. They’d clawed their way through not only the Olympics qualifiers in Beijing, but also qualifiers to get onto their respective nation’s teams. It hadn’t been easy, staying cooped up in gyms and pools practicing the same somersaults and dives over and over, all for this one chance to attain glory.

Jongdae catches Minseok heading over to Zitao in the frames of the stream, but Zitao’s slippery, and slinks away while he awaits his next turn.

After a few tries, Minseok gives up, choosing instead to keep to himself and prepare himself for his next dive. As much as Jongdae wants to be mad at him for not trying harder, he understands. They’re in the _Olympics_. Some people train their whole lives just for a chance to qualify, and here they are in the finals, competing for the medal.

They’re one of the lucky ones.

***

When Jongdae came home from training one Friday evening, he found his mother sitting at the dining table looking rather forlorn. Something was telling him that he wasn’t going to like whatever his mother was going to say, so he took his time taking off his shoes and coat and putting away his things, lingering in his room as long as his could, until

“Jongdae, honey, could you come out here for a bit?”

Jongdae did, pulling out the chair to sit across her.

“Your father and I have given this a lot of thought, and we want you to go back to school in Seoul,” she began, and yep, Jongdae doesn’t like that at all. He started to frown, mouth twisted downwards in a brilliant show of disapproval. His mother noticed this, and let out a sigh.

“I know you don’t want to – you have such good friends here. But high school is very, very important, Jongdae, and you need to understand–”

“Why can’t you just homeschool me? Just like you’ve always done?” Jongdae asked, trying very hard to keep his voice down.

“I can’t. You know how the university entry exams are like. I can’t help you enough, Jongdae, we have to go back.”

Jongdae scowled. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to stop diving,” his mother continued, reaching across the small table to hold onto his hand. He let her. “You’ll get another coach in Seoul. Plus, Minseok and his mother are going back too.”

Jongdae looked up at the sound of Minseok’s name. “Really?”

His mother nodded, then let out another sigh. “His mother let him sit of a couple of mock exams, thinking he could do it, but it turned out that he couldn’t. Both of you are so talented in diving, but university is really important too.”

“Minseok hyung is a Olympics finalist,” Jongdae pointed out, still not eager to leave Qingdao.

“Yes, but diving is a young sport. Once both of you grow out of diving, you need other skills, other qualifications.” Her voice is soft, her thumb rubbing circles onto the back of his hand. “This world isn’t kind, Jongdae.”

 

Jongdae and Minseok are put into some kind of sports school in Seoul, surrounded with people just like them – kids vying to be professional athletes. It was, in all honesty, a lonely place. Everyone was so absorbed with whatever sport they had dedicated their entire life to, spending precious free time training in the gym, on the track or the field. His classmates would occasionally disappear for a day or two to participate in whatever competition they had been training for, returning either as a hero or a wounded soldier.

Regardless, Jongdae, being Jongdae, was still able to adapt easily and make friends, despite not being in Seoul for the past four years and having rather rusty Korean. He grew close to two of his classmates, a bowler named Chanyeol and a Hapkido practitioner named Baekhyun, forming some kind of formidable trio who enjoyed playing pranks on the rest of the class.

“Diving, huh,” Baekhyun had said the first time they met, scrutinising him from head to toe. “You must be uncomfortable wearing all this clothing.”

Jongdae looked down at his uniform. It was pretty comfortable, so why…? Then it hit him. “Hey, I don’t wear speedos all the time.”

Chanyeol burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Baekhyun shrugged. “That’s what I see on TV,” he gave him yet another once-over, then waggled his eyebrows. “Aren’t you, like, really fit under all that? With chocolate abs? And really nicely toned arms?”

“Uhm,” Jongdae bit his lip. “Isn’t every other kid here like that?”

“Not this one,” Baekhyun elbowed Chanyeol in his side, earning him a yelp. “He’s all flab. _Bowling._ Who knew that could be a professional sport?”

“It is, okay,” Chanyeol sniffed, rubbing his side with a pout on his lips. “Anyway, you’re all flab too.”

Baekhyun hissed. “I’m working on it, asshole.”

“ _Ex_ -junior national champ,” Chanyeol shoved a finger at Baekhyun’s direction.

Jongdae liked them already, though they didn’t have Wu Fan’s awkwardness or Yixing’s quiet wit or Lu Han’s and Zitao’s brand of playfulness. He missed them everyday, and made sure he kept in touch with them through weibo and renren. _I made this just for you,_ he told them. _Since China’s banned Facebook. Who even bans Facebook?_

 _What’s wrong with renren?_ Yixing had replied. _It’s not like you can’t read Mandarin._

 _Still,_ Jongdae typed back quickly. _I have all my other friends on Facebook._

 _You made new friends!!!!!!!!!_ It’s Zitao who replied this time.

 _Yeah, my classmates. There’s all types in this school. Did you know that bowling’s a professional sport? Remember the time we all went bowling?_ It had been a tragic day. None of them knew how to bowl, hitting gutters with every roll. Eventually it morphed into a betting circle of who could _avoid_ getting their ball into the gutter.

 _!!!!!!!_ Wu Fan replied. _I thought we agreed to never mention that ever again._

 _And miss out on an opportunity to embarrass the fuck out of you? Please._ Jongdae could hear Lu Han’s laughter from all the way in Seoul.

 _Hey, leave_ duizhang _alone,_ Zitao defended him, pulling out an old nickname they hardly use anymore.

Jongdae missed them really, really badly.

 

Unsurprisingly, his dives took a turn for the worse. While he could build a rapport with his new coach, he couldn’t seem to build a rapport with the _board_. The spring felt different under his feet, and his dives become less and less tight, his form unravelling around the edges and his entries into the water getting louder and bigger, just like his desire to go back to Qingdao.

“I’m not sure if I can let you go through to nationals,” his coach told him one day. “You’re distracted, and going from bad to worse. What’s wrong, kid?”

Jongdae shook his head, desperate. “It’s nothing. I swear. I’ll work harder, so just. Don’t pull me out. Please.”

 

From two-time national junior champion in the 3m springboard, Jongdae slipped all the way down to 14th, failing to even make it into the finals. His parents were disappointed, his coach was disappointed.

He’s upset.

 

Two months after the national junior championships, Jongdae stopped hearing from Zitao.

***

“Hyung,” Jongin calls, voice soft from all the way down by the pool. Jongdae’s slides away from his voice, trying to avoid being seen, even though he knows it’s futile. Jongin doesn’t call him another time, and Jongdae assumes he’s gone away, but then he feels a body next to his, and almost jumps out of his skin when he sees his brother there.

“Bloody hell, Jongin,” Jongdae curses. Fucking ballet dancers and their quiet footsteps. “Stop doing that.”

“If you stop moping around like this I will,” Jongin says. He holds out Jongdae’s bag and towel, but Jongdae doesn’t take it.

“You go home first,” he says. “I’ll be home for dinner.”

Jongin doesn’t say anything, so Jongdae goes back to staring at the distance in the water. They sit in silence for a long time, that Jongdae even forgets that his brother’s there.

“You gotta do something, you know,” Jongin says softly, nudging his shoulder into Jongdae’s. “Sitting around here on the ten-metre won’t get him back.”

“I’m not trying to get him back,” Jongdae defends automatically. “What if I just like the air up here? What if it just helps me think?”

Jongin sighs. “Hyung, you can’t just stand still. You know what happens if you do – everyone keeps moving around you, and you’ll just get left behind.”

Jongdae doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps quiet and goes back to staring at the water. He doesn’t notice when Jongin leaves, leaving behind a bottle of banana milk where he’d sat, and his words that linger around Jongdae’s head.

_Sitting around here won’t get him back._

 

Even though he’s realised that he can’t possibly keep still, Jongdae can’t find it in himself to really _start_ training again. His heart’s still not in his jumps, always finding some fault or other in the springboard, or his jump height, or his pike or tuck position.

“You’re putting in effort,” Minseok tells him when Jongdae’s asked him to watch his jumps.

“That’s all you can say? I’m _putting in effort_?”

Minseok shrugs. “You know more than me that you’re really not into this anymore,” he doesn’t mince his words, and boy, do they hurt.

Jongdae frowns, not liking how easily Minseok’s able to read him. “I am still into this,” he says, voice firm. “I’m not going to quit.”

Minseok tilts his head to the side, as though a little amused. “Jongdae, you don’t have the drive anymore. You need to ask yourself: what are you diving for?”

That’s a question Jongdae doesn’t have an answer for, so he directs it back at Minseok. “What do _you_ dive for, hyung?”

“Diving’s flying,” Minseok replies easily. “I want to see how high I can fly.”

Jongdae can see the _want_ in Minseok’s eyes, blazing bright. He knows it’s not in his own, and doesn’t know how to find it either. He gulps, looks down at his toes, and uses his humour to escape the situation.

“Seventh in the Olympics not high enough for you, hyung?” He teases, though his voice comes out a little tight.

The fire in Minseok’s eyes flickers with pride at _seventh_. “I won’t stop till I get the gold.”

 

Wu Fan’s face is caked in something pale green, and Jongdae really doesn’t want to talk to him while he looks like that.

“Ge, you look like a fucking alien. I’m gonna turn off the video feed,” Jongdae tells him. Wu Fan makes a little squeal of protest, but Jongdae turns it off anyway.

“I was going to wash it off,” Wu Fan’s words a little jumbled because of how stiff his stupid mask is on his stupid face.

“It’s one in the morning here. As much as I don’t believe in ghosts or all that shit I’d still rather not talk to strange beings like you in a cucumber mask,” Jongdae tells him.

“It’s avocado,” Wu Fan corrects him. “And I’m gonna wash it off now.”

Jongdae doesn’t mind waiting for Wu Fan. Skyping with his friends in China a few times a week has become a routine of sorts. It’s an easy way for all of them to keep in touch despite being all over the place. Lu Han and Yixing had moved to Beijing to train with the rest of the Chinese national team, while Wu Fan stayed in Qingdao to continue his studies in university. Minseok’s the hardest to keep track of, perpetually training with other nation’s teams in some country or other, but he does try to join the group chat at least once a week.

The only person they’re missing is Zitao, whom they haven’t heard from since a little over a year ago.

“I’m baaaaaack,” Wu Fan sings. Jongdae hears a thump, followed by a soft _ow_ , and shakes his head. Some things never change, like Wu Fan being an idiot.

“You know if you don’t stop being mean to me I’ll just not tell you something you want to know,” Wu Fan says, voice cocky. “Something concerning Zitao.”

Jongdae sits up straight. “You heard from him? What did he say?”

“Calm down, Romeo,” Wu Fan chuckles. “Next year’s FINA World Series sites are out. Qingdao’s the first venue.”

“Really?” Is all Jongdae can say, as his brain runs through the possibilities. If he goes, he’d be able to meet Zitao, to talk to him. Something had to happen for Zitao to just disappear without a trace, and Jongdae’s gonna find out.

There’s only just one problem. “I was pulled out of the team,” he says, voice almost a whisper. He feels small, all of a sudden, to be telling Wu Fan this. His friends all know, of course, but saying it out loud when they both know that the rest of them are going places… stung quite a bit.

Wu Fan doesn’t seem perturbed by it. “Then get back on it,” he says, as though it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You know you can do it. You just haven’t had a reason to.

“So I’m giving you one now.”

 

The next day is a Friday, which is Jongdae’s only off-day from training in the week. However, he has something to ask his coach, so he heads to the natatorium with his gear after school and strolls right in.

His coach is training a couple of kids in the lap pool, and Jongdae watches, making himself comfortable on the bleachers until he’s spotted and waved over.

“You being here probably means you want something from me, yes?” His coach asks. “So spill.”

“I want back on the team,” Jongdae says firmly. “I want to compete in Qingdao next year.”

A smile grows on his coach’s face, which is a good sign, and Jongdae finds himself begging _pleasepleasepleaseplease_ over and over in his head. “You show me just how much you want it right now, and we’ll see how it goes.”

And that’s how he finds himself stripping down to his speedos and climbing up to the springboard. It doesn’t feel quite so _different_ under his toes today, he thinks, as he paces up and back to test its spring, then proceeds to do his favourite dive – a reverse 2 ½ somersaults 1 ½ twists in the pike position – feeling the wind on his face as he lets his body twist by itself, the movement so familiar and so comforting. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel the water smacking him on his back and calves. He’s made a perfect entry.

His coach is grinning when Jongdae exits the pool. “You want it bad, huh,” he says.

“Yeah, I do,” Jongdae replies. He really, really does.

 

They dive headfirst into training the very next day, Jongdae spending infinitely more time on the trampoline, then on the springboard to get every single one of his dives right. He sees less and less of Baekhyun and Chanyeol after that, as he works towards gaining everything he’s lost in his dives.

“Big competition coming up?” Baekhyun asks when Jongdae’s packing up after the last bell’s rung, in a hurry to head to the pool.

“Yeah,” Jongdae flashes him a grin. “The FINA World Series next year.”

“Whoa? Really? Didn’t you just lose the junior title last year?” Chanyeol, ever the one with so much tact and sensibility, exclaims.

“I’m gonna get it back,” Jongdae tells them. He shoots them both a wave, swings his bag over his shoulder and rushes out of the classroom.”

 

Minseok drops by the pool a few weeks later, having just returned from the Asian Games with a gold in the 10m. Their families had held a huge dinner in celebration just the night before, and Minseok refuses to strip down to his speedos, choosing instead to sit by the pool and watch Jongdae jump.

“I’m still kind of lumpy from last night,” he pats his stomach with fondness. “So show me what you got.”

“Aye, aye, gold medalist, sir,” Jongdae teases, stiffening his body and saluting before bounding up the stairs. He’s just learnt a new dive – 4 ½ somersaults in the tuck position, the hardest in his repertoire – and was eager to show it off to see what Minseok thought of it.

He’s built some kind of bond with this springboard now, which has helped a lot – his dives have gotten infinitely better. He works with the motions of the board, building on its momentum to gain the extra height he needed for all the somersaults he was about to do. Once he jumps he lets his body take over, trusting it enough to curl and hold, then letting go and straightening it to enter the water.

Minseok’s clapping when Jongdae surfaces, feet kicking excitedly in the water and face lit up with price. “That was amazing. I’ve never seen you dive like this before,” he says, his voice loud since he’s so excited. “I’m really proud of you.” He wraps his arms around Jongdae’s shoulders and holds him close despite Jongdae having just gotten out of the pool and wetting his t-shirt.

When they finally pull apart Minseok’s expression is a little subdued. “You know, Zitao was devastated when he finished silver at the Asian Games,” he says. His smile is a little sad. “He looked so empty, like he’s a ghost of a person.”

Jongdae could tell, from the haunted look the camera had caught on Zitao’s face when Minseok finished with a perfect armstand dive, scoring a hundred points and putting him a whole ten points higher than Zitao. They’d hugged at the podium after the medals were given out, and Zitao had held on just that tiny bit longer, Minseok hooking his chin on Zitao’s shoulder and running his hands up and down his back, just like how he’d done when they were younger.

 _Kim Minseok hugging silver medalist Huang Zitao,_ the commentator had said. _They’d actually trained together for years, back when they were still in the junior championships, so this reunion must be very special for them._

“He slid away after that,” Minseok tells Jongdae. He sounds a bit exasperated. “It’s like he… I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

Jongdae rests a hand on Minseok’s arm. “I’m gonna find out, hyung.”

 

The national junior championships are a solid three months before the FINA World Series in Qingdao, and Jongdae’s coach pushes him to go for it. Jongdae does, even though he was a little worried at first, to show his face at an event where he’d made an embarrassment of himself only last year. But he’s in his top form, and he wants his gold back.

It’s easy for Jongdae to spot his family and Minseok’s in the stands, a hand-made banner in Jongin’s and Minseok’s hands catching his eye almost immediately. The venue’s not very big, but filled with family members and friends of the competitors, and Jongdae drinks it all in, taking the cheers and making them all his.

To everyone’s surprise except for his own and a few others close to him, Jongdae reclaims his gold easily, his dives impeccable as he enjoys the way his body sculpts itself around somersaults and twists, then guide it into the water. He’s come very far, he thinks, from someone who hadn’t known what he had wanted, slipping down to the bottom, now at the top.

 _I found myself again,_ he tells himself when he hops up onto the podium to receive his medal. 

Now he has to find Zitao.

 

Being back in Qingdao is both comforting and familiar and yet, at the same time, a completely new experience. Jongdae’s grown so much since the last time he’s set foot in Qingdao, a sentiment that Wu Fan echoes when he picks them all up at the airport.

“You’ve really grown,” Wu Fan says. “You were a runt. What happened?”

Jongdae frowns up at Wu Fan. If there was anyone who had grown, it’s Wu Fan. He bops his head in the middle of Wu Fan’s chest, not bothering with a reply, then walks away to grab his luggage.

“You should be glad you could never dive,” Minseok comments, looking up at Wu Fan with a slight scowl. “You’d be kicked out even before you reach this height.”

“I’m not that tall!” Wu Fan protests. “There’s a dude in my gender class who’s a head taller than me!”

“Both of you can start a club then,” Jongdae suggests. “The Overgrown Idiots club. Only those above 185cm and an idiot may apply.” He thinks of Chanyeol back in Seoul and adds. “I may have someone in mind who will make an amazing mascot for the three of you.”

Wu Fan’s frowning a little, but breaks into a small grin when he remembers that everything Jongdae says is a joke. “I missed you too, Zhongda. Good to see that you’ve remembered your Mandarin.”

“We Skype at least twice a week, what’s there to forget?” Jongdae points out. Minseok laughs, and Wu Fan chuckles. It’s great to be back.

 

Jongdae makes it all the way to the finals without a hitch, then sits next to Wu Fan as the organisers ready the natatorium for the 10m platform event. He’s drumming with nervous energy, eager to see Zitao, and Wu Fan has to rest his hand on Jongdae’s knee to stop it from shaking too much.

It’s very anticlimatic when Zitao finally appears. He spots Jongdae first, and Wu Fan has to slap him in the side to turn to Zitao.

Zitao’s shocked, as though he hadn’t expected to see Jongdae at all. Jongdae’s shocked too, because he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t say anything, since Zitao is all the way at the other side of the pool, so he holds two thumbs up and mouths a _jiayou!_ instead.

It was the right thing to do, because Zitao lights up, all the shadows on his face that had been there fading away. He returns Jongdae’s gesture with two thumbs up of his own and a mouthed _you too!_

 

The tension’s high among them as the watch the finals of the men’s 10m. Lu Han’s gripping into Jongdae’s thigh, cheering alternately for Minseok and Zitao. Yixing looks worried, nibbling on his knuckles every time either of them steps out. It’s a very close match between Minseok and Zitao – they’re both evenly matched, Minseok being more polished technically, but Zitao possessing all the flamboyancy and artistry of a young, spirited diver.

As much as Jongdae wants to go up to Zitao to talk, he knows that it’s not the right time – they have a medal to win, both being the favourites of their respective countries. And since Zitao’s lost to Minseok a sizeable number of times already, he’d want to put in his all.

Jongdae knows Minseok won’t have any of that, though. He keeps a cool head, doing all of his dives with a calm composure, making sure he has enough time to collect himself before starting on any of his dives. It pays off, his scores never dipping below the mid-eighties.

“Zitao’s silver,” Yixing whispers after Zitao messes up his entry on his fourth dive, bending his legs just a tad bit backwards and causing a rather large splash. He scores 7.5s across the board, putting a twelve-point gap between himself and Minseok.

“He’s not gonna beat Minseok,” Wu Fan says, leaning forwards on his knees. “This is what – the third time?”

Jongdae shakes his head. “Fourth. Asian Games was the third.”

“Sometimes Minseok feels guilty for going into 10m,” Lu Han says suddenly. “Sometimes he wishes he could’ve gone into 3m instead, just so Zitao could have his shot.”

That’s something Jongdae’s never heard before. Minseok had originally started on the 5m platform, but switched up to 10m when he started competing outside of junior championships, since the FINA competitions didn’t have a 5m category. It hadn’t been an easy switch – Minseok spent almost ten hours a day, seven days a week conditioning his body for the 10m. But it did pay off.

“I don’t think he should feel guilty for that,” Yixing tells Lu Han, giving him a hard look. They stay that way for a while, staring at each other as though exchanging some kind of mental telepathy, until Lu Han breaks it by shaking his head.

 _Mum said they have something between them,_ Wu Fan had told Jongdae, years ago. _Like some kind of instinctual connection, the way twins have, you know? That’s why they’re such great sync partners even though they’re so different._

Jongdae wonders if they ever felt lonely during endless rounds of trainings, since they did, after all, have each other. Jongdae, Minseok and Zitao trained alone most of the time, spending all their time with nothing but their own thoughts and ambitions. It consumed them, especially Minseok, who couldn’t imagine living a life without diving.

As expected, Minseok wins the gold. Zitao’s slip in the fourth round had already made that much obvious, but they still congratulate him after everyone’s done with their dives and the medalists are heading over to the podium. They manage to catch Zitao as well, who looks very, very surprised by the sudden amount of attention directed at him, though Jongdae isn’t sure why, since he was always their youngest, their baby.

“I thought…” he began, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I thought you guys would hate me after I moved away.”

There’s outbursts of _what?!_ and _never!_ , and Jongdae can’t help but wonder how on earth Zitao came to that conclusion.

Zitao looks a little shifty when Jongdae asks, looking around as though he knows someone’s watching. “My parents,” he says after a beat, dropping his voice into a whisper. “Thought you were distractions. They said, if I moved away and cut all contact, you’d forget me and we’d all be able to concentrate more on diving.”

Well, then. That does explain a lot, Jongdae thinks. But then again, Zitao should’ve known them better.

“I’d never forget you, Zitao,” Jongdae says, reaching out for Zitao’s hand and holding it in his own.

“Yeah,” Wu Fan joins in. “We’d never forget you.” He pulls them all into a group hug, and just like that, everything falls back into place.

 

Except it’s never really that easy. Zitao’s parents were pretty furious when they found out that he had not only spoken to his old training buddies at the World Series, but also kept in contact with them, using his Internet time not just to watch diving videos and do schoolwork as he had claimed, but chat with them on renren and Skype.

He gave them an ultimatum: _up my training times and let me talk to my friends, and I’ll get the gold the next time we go to a FINA. If I fail, I’ll cut all contact, and everything will go back to the way it was._.

“Don’t think I’ll make it easy for you,” Minseok says when Zitao tells them over a Skype call. He glares at the camera and points at it. “Just because we’re friends and you have a sob story, don’t think that will make me give you a free pass.”

Zitao laughs, already looking so much _happier_ than before. “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to make it easy for me either.” He sticks out his tongue, proving that he’s still the baby they all like to dote on, as though nothing’s changed from before.

Except it has. Jongdae finds it hard not to feel excited when Zitao talks to him on renren or weibo, a little bubble of happiness rising up and making him feel a little lightheaded. It’s worse when they schedule a Skype night, since Jongdae would spend all afternoon just thinking about Zitao, most of the time while he’s doing laps in the pool.

“You did five more than you were supposed to today,” his coach tells him. “Did you drink espresso again?”

“Uhm, no?” Jongdae’s confused, because he’d thought he counted it right in his head… between bouts of thinking about Zitao and his form as he’s twisting in the air, muscles tense and firm. How would that feel under Jongdae’s fingers? He needs to know.

“Kim Jongdae,” his coach calls him. “Stop wandering away. We’re diving now.”

Right.

 

All six of them meet again some four months later, this time for an aquatics friendly between South Korea and China, held in Beijing, all in the spirit of diplomatic relations. Jongdae doesn’t care much for politics if that gives him the chance to see Zitao again. And the rest of his friends. And dive for the gold.

“You know, you’ve been talking about Zitao a lot these past few days,” Minseok tells him on the plane. “I know you have a crush, but it’s getting pretty embarrassing.”

A _crush_ , huh. Jongdae’s never really bothered to put a label on it, simply knew that he was very attracted to Zitao, both his body and his very essence of being. It made him a little flushed thinking about it, putting his feelings that way.

“Do you think I should tell him?” Jongdae asks, despite part of him telling him to violently deny everything Minseok had just said.

Minseok blinks, as though he hadn’t expected that response. “Yeah,” he says, still a little stunned. “I think you should just be very honest, and see what Zitao has to say.”

Jongdae likes the idea of that. Honesty’s always the best policy. He leans back in his seat, already feeling very confident of everything that’s about to happen.

 

Zitao’s in his top form this time, beaming as he steps into the natatorium, Lu Han and Yixing chatting excitedly with him. The crowd goes crazy when they come out in full view, since they were, after all, three of China’s top divers (and heartbreakers) talking to one another. They take their seats next to Wu Fan and his mother, and Zitao leans back to give Jongdae a wave.

Jongdae almost knocks over a pile of water bottles waving excitedly back. Next to him, Minseok chuckles, exchanging some kind of look with Lu Han.

“You’re really smitten, huh,” he says.

“Probably just like you are with Lu Han,” Jongdae points out, waggling his eyebrows in a strange mockery of whatever look Minseok and Lu Han had just exchanged. “At least I don’t engage in some kind of subtle foreplay in public.”

Minseok chokes on his water at that. “Aren’t you too young to know what foreplay is?”

“I’m nineteen next year,” Jongdae reminds him.

“You kids grow up so fast,” Minseok sighs, then adds after a pause. “Don’t let me hear you say things like that ever again.”

 

Being in a friendly doesn’t mean that they slack off, it simply means that they have more space to enjoy the atmosphere and the competition and get to trade lots of hugs after everything’s over. It’s fun, though Jongdae knows that Minseok and Yixing wouldn’t trade friendlies with real competitions any day.

On the other hand, Zitao appears to be in his element, chatting excitedly with other divers instead of holing himself up in a corner waiting for his next turn. His dives are also a lot more relaxed, though no less polished than they usually were, never scoring less than eighties with each round. It’s as though he’s finally trusted himself enough to simply let go, letting his body meld into the shapes he’s taught it to.

Jongdae thinks he’s even more beautiful like this.

 

They’ve all agreed to go for dinner together at a restaurant in front of their hotel after the friendly, but somehow Jongdae feels that he’d rather spend the evening with Zitao. He takes a quick shower, then heads down the hall to Zitao’s room. It's pretty instinctual, he thinks, he way his feet bring him in front of Zitao's door, one hand raised, curled into a fist and ready to knock.

“Zhongda!” Zitao greets, grinning widely as he lets Jongdae in. His hair is wet, his face a little flushed from his own shower, his lips red, and Jongdae wants nothing more than to know how they feel against his own.

“Can I kiss you?” Jongdae asks, the words slipping past his tongue before he realises what he’s saying.

Zitao looks shocked, his eyes blown wide as he processes what Jongdae’s just said. Jongdae regrets it then, and opens his mouth to take it back, or crack a joke, or _something_.

But then Zitao leans in and pulls Jongdae closer, then presses their lips firmly together. His lips are as soft as Jongdae’s imagined them to be, but much, much warmer and definitely more real. He snakes a hand down Jongdae’s side, resting it in the small of Jongdae’s back, holding on tightly as though he’s afraid that Jongdae would leave.

 _I’m not going to go anywhere,_ Jongdae tells him by sliding a hand up Zitao’s neck and holding him close, brushing their noses together when they finally break apart for air.

“Tell me this isn’t real,” Zitao whispers against Jongdae’s cheek, his breath tickling Jongdae’s ear.

“It is,” Jongdae whispers back, because these sorts of things can’t be said too loudly. “You just kissed me, and I kissed you back.”

“I’m really not dreaming,” Zitao says, still looking quite shocked. Jongdae wants to kiss it away, cement the fact that it’s not a dream, that they’re both real, and they’re both _here_.

***

“Have you guys seen Jongdae?” Wu Fan’s voice is very, very far away, and Jongdae wants to leave it at that. He pulls Zitao close, letting Zitao press him against the railing as he kisses Zitao’s neck, nibbling at the soft, warm skin.

“Don’t you need to go?” Zitao leans back to ask.

“Nah,” Jongdae replies quickly, linking his fingers on Zitao’s nape and pulling him back down for another kiss, because any second they spend not kissing is a second wasted.

“He’s probably up on the ten-metre with Zitao again,” Yixing says. “You know how they’re like.”

Zitao chuckles, burying his face in Jongdae’s neck when he hears. “We’re not that bad, aren’t we?”

“No, we’re not bad at all,” Jongdae reassures him.

“Yah, Kim Jongdae!” Both Jongdae and Zitao jump apart at Minseok’s yell. It’s in Korean, which means that he’s probably getting a little pissed. “I need to train. I don’t want to go up there and see both of you making out again. Zitao has to see the coach with Lu Han and Yixing, and you have to go for class!”

“What did he say?” Zitao asks.

“We have to go,” Jongdae says, already missing Zitao. They’re both in Beijing, Zitao back with Wu Fan’s mother to train for the London Olympics next year, and Jongdae studying sports science in university, but their schedules clash quite a bit, and finding time to meet up is hard.

They try to make it work though.

“I’ll drop by your dorm later?” Zitao offers, holding out Jongdae’s bag. Jongdae takes it, leaning in to steal one last kiss.

“I’ll be waiting,” he tells him, then heads down the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for zhonqda @ LJ for the Chenpionships! i had so much fun with this because taochen is my otp and also because diving is my absolute favourite olympic sport. of course i couldn't help the shameless exo-m brot6 and beagleline cameo because ugh love them so much.
> 
> this is literally my fave fic out of everything i've ever written and i may or may not be writing a layhan sync diving partners + xiuhan sidestory in this same arc ^^
> 
> [shameless] if you liked this fic, do give me a kudos or leave a comment here or [here on livejournal](http://electrolyse.livejournal.com/5413.html)! [/shameless]


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